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The following
story below was the first to appear in this section:
Foxtrot on
Point by Chitzkoi
Trey McIntosh
scanned the horizon from the edge of the woods, across the field of golden
grass, blowing gently in the breeze. He could still hear the engines
drawing nearer, but couldn't yet see what type vehicle they were. Wait. He
focused the binoculars closely on the spot that had caught his attention.
Yup. About twenty-five conscripts cautiously crossing the field, guns at
the ready. Plus whatever vehicles were back there. It would be tough, but
not impossible, for his patrol of ten GIs.
He signaled
back to the rest of the men and moved through the woods to the point where
the road entered them. The .50 cals were cocked and ready. The conscripts
were caught unprepared. The Brownings rattled, and a hail of bullets
sliced a dozen or so in half. The others pulled up their AKs and fired
blindly into the woods. Trees splintered everywhere, and McIntosh heard
one man of his squad groan in agony as he was hit. But their machine guns
hosed down the conscripts before they could find anyone else. Guns ready,
they dashed out into the tall grass of the field , the heads of the
tallest of them barely showing above the grass. As the engines grew
louder, the patrol became more and more tense. Two flak tracks left the
safety of the trees and advanced through the clearing. They let rip with
the MGs, riddling the sides of the vehicles and sending smoke billowing
out the sides. One had time to rotate the quad mount on top and fire
through the field, killing two men and slicing down the grass before it
burst into a ball of flame, sending shrapnel pounding into the field. The
patrol cheered and waved their guns in the air. But then they noticed that
the humming of engines had not yet stopped. McIntosh sent two scouts ahead
into the woods. Soon they radioed back, and it wasn't good news.
"Man, it's a *static* tanks *static* coup *static* infan *static* one
*static* plus *static* MCV *ing base*" Then there was one final interruption
of communication and no more was heard. McIntosh switched to the command
frequency. "Foxtrot Platoon, requesting immediate reinforcements and
air support. Multiple tanks and infantry sigh7ted, plus MCV, probable
objective establishing forward supply base."
The first tank
was leaving the woods, accompanied by some infantry which fanned out into
the field. Machine gun fire mixed with that of assault rifles as both
sides blindly fired. Over the chatter McIntosh could hear the distant hum
of jet engines. They came up fast, five Harrier jets. Their missile racks
blazed and fragmented the two lead tanks in a matter of seconds. Then the roar of a SAM from an
Apocalypse tank shot into the sky, blasting a Harrier to pieces. The
others began sharp evasive maneuvers and shot off at low altitude. At that
moment a Grizzly tank came through the field and began firing. Two more
joined it before the Rhinos replied. McIntosh and his patrol had
eliminated the lead infantry, and GIs were swarming out of the woods and
setting up MG nests to take out any that remained. Only four men survived
of McIntosh's patrol, and one was injured. They fell back to the
Grizzlies, where they boarded a waiting IFV. He gladly sat down in the black leather seat as the vehicle trundled forward.
Glancing at his watch, he saw that thirty minutes had passed. It had
seemed much less. He, at least, would live to fight another day.
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